I often live for another moment. A moment when time freezes faster than air out of the lungs, and eternity agrees to my wishes. I stand there in awe, and I observe the world. I notice the spec and the hole and the ant carrying his bread. I see the misplaced child. I see the unspoken words, and I read the faces of hurting people.
I often live for a moment. A moment when what I do matters. It may not be seen by anyone, or known by a single soul as long as my life continues, but the Creator knows. So in that moment, I chose truth, I chose real instead of plastic. I chose a genuine frown to a fake smile. I choose grace, even though it may be impossible to give real grace with a genuine laugh. I'll give what I have, and I'll mean it. I choose closed. Life is not an open book. Sure, I'm writing it, but that doesn't mean everyone gets to read it. Perhaps what is on page 10 is only for me and the author.
I often live for final moment. A moment when life stops. When all that reality promises fails. I know this moment is the battery of my clock, so it keeps ticking, motivating me to be all that I am today, since it will be too late to set back the time when tomorrow's alarm rings.